Ethereal Notations
by polarbearoncrack
Summary: The professors have decided to give the seventh years a survey. What will you do when you come across your worst enemy's answers? DMHG oneshot. Disclaimer: Harry potter belongs to JK Rowling.


"Malfoy, we're supposed to hand out these surveys to the seventh years," Hermione stated looking at the blond's hunched figure.

"I can't see why you can't do it yourself mudblood," he replied condescendingly. "That's the only thing you're good for, isn't it?"

Hermione seethed, making him smirk in response. Everyday was spent like this with Hogwart's Head Boy and Head Girl. Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger should never be left alone together. Unfortunately for them, Dumbledore disagreed when he decided to assign them the Heads position.

Red and green. Even their House colors contrasted one another. It was the way things at Hogwarts worked. Those in the Slytherin house must rival those in the Gryffindor house and vice versa. Why the Headmaster decided to enforce House unity onto them now was a paradox not even the Greatest Witch of Hogwarts can comprehend.

"Look, you insufferable ferret," Draco's eyes narrowed at the last word. "You will help me hand these out whether you like it or not." She very nearly screamed at him.

After being stuck together for five long months, the slightest of things such as this is enough to trigger their deep loathing for each other. It was rather frightening to have them suddenly yelling at the top of their lungs. For the first weeks, at least two Professors had to watch them to make sure no murder, or _plans_ of murder, was to take place. Needless to say, Dumbledore was despised during those times.

"Fine," he got up so quickly that the chair he was sitting on got knocked over. He tugged the ream of paper harshly from Hermione and peered at it.

"What the hell?" he said under his breath. "All about our favorite things? Who in the world would care?"

Hermione shrugged. "They said that all of the teachers agreed to this. Even Professor Snape." She answered Draco's unasked question.

"Let's just get this over with Granger. I don't want to spend any time with a mudblood like you more than I have to," Hermione pointedly ignored this statement.

"Give this to the seventh years in the East Wing, I'll take the West. Tell them to pass it to me when they're done. Including yours,"

"We have to do this too?" she gave a curt nod before heading out of the dorms, slamming the portrait shut in her wake.

0 0 0

"Parvati Patil, Lavander Brown," Hermione rubbed her eyes as she counted the papers in her hand. In truth, Professor McGonagall had told her that she and Draco were responsible for this task. She was just too stubborn to ask him for his help on this. The distribution part was one thing. She could never cover up that much space in such little time. But she knew that she could do this on her own.

"Harry Potter, Blaise Zabini," she yawned and glanced at the watch right beside her. It read 12: 45.

"How long have I been doing this?" she inquired herself. The number of students hadn't occurred to her. It was certainly more than what she initially thought.

"Just six more papers," it took every ounce of determination she could muster to say this. Eyelids drooping, her eyes scanned the top of the page for the names. Her hand acted automatically, crossing out the names of the students on the list she had placed on the countertop.

"Padma Patil, Ronald Weasley, Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott, Draco Malfoy - " she stopped flipping the pages as she read the name. All traces of drowsiness was replaced with curiosity. This was wrong. She shouldn't be doing this. No matter how much he got on her nerves, she shouldn't be prying into Malfoy's business.

It was too late. Her senses have left her entirely. Her chocolate brown eyes examined the dimly lit common room. Seeing no one, she pulled out the parchment and read the neatly written script.

**_Favorite color/s?_**

**_Green and silver_**

_Obviously,_ she thought.

_**Favorite past time?**_

_**Quidditch**_

_Typical, _she rolled her eyes at this one. She was sure Harry and Ron had jotted down the same thing. This question had plagued her mind so many times and yet, she could never figure out the answer. What is so special about Quidditch? It's just people flying around on a broom trying to knock each other off. She shook her head and carried on.

_**Favorite food?**_

_**Chocolate pudding with pickles**_

_What is he, pregnant?_ She commented on every question. She just couldn't resist making a jibe out of the pureblood git's answers. Finally, she reached the last number.

_**Favorite person?**_

"Ooh, who could it be? Daddy? Voldemort? Or heaven forbid, _Pansy Parkinson?_" she gave a small laugh. It couldn't be Parkinson. It was quite clear that he didn't want her anywhere within ten feet of him. But unfortunately for him, and lucky for the Gryffindors, she can't seem to take a hint. Her eyes fell back on the poll and her jaw dropped at what she saw.

_**Hermione Granger**_

"What?!" she yelped, knocking the other students' parchments on the ground.

"Bloody hell, what's the matter with you Granger?" came a sleepy voice from the right side of the stair case.

"Nothing," she said quickly.

"Nothing," he echoed in an unbelieving tone, scanning the mess she created. With a heavy sigh, he did the unthinkable.

"Do you need help?" Hermione stared at him like he had grown two heads. Was Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Prince, actually offering to help mudblood Hermione Granger? Her head bobbed up and down slowly, expecting him to retract his offer. He made his way to the kitchen and picked up the fallen pieces of paper.

"Are you just going to stand there or are you going to help me clean up, mudblood?" he said, exasperated.

"Y- yeah," she snuck peeks at him throughout the entire time and somehow, her lips couldn't help but form a small smile.


End file.
